Once again we were blessed with a beautiful, cool, crisp Autumn morning to begin our day with. Blessed also with the luxury of being at camp we (I) can enjoy “alpine starts” of somewhere between 9-10am, much more doable for me. I was dressed warmly to get to the trailhead, but upon arrival I was soon down to tank top and shorts despite the cool temps.

Start cold is my motto, in ten minutes I’ll be sweating and I won’t have to stop to take off layers. I was fine dressed like this until we broke out into the sun on Carter Dome where I put on a dry shirt and my jacket until we started moving again. Along with the sweat the dampness of the forest from the previous day’s rain added to the water which was running down my face making it necessary to stop and wipe my eyes every few minutes.

The forest was damp and beautiful and the sunlight brilliant as we started out along the leaf-strewn trail. Yesterday’s rain seemed to have washed all the color from the trees and laid it at our feet, an intricate mosaic of dazzling colors as though new carpeting had been laid on the forest floor. The wet forest steamed as the the morning’s sun rays pierced the dark shady places along the brook. Wicket trotted along just ahead of me, her nose working overtime at all the wonderful damp smells.

It had been six years since we had been on this trail. Emma and Blue had joined us on the last trip to Carter Dome and Mount Hight in October of 2011, less than 3 months after Hurricane Irene had devastated many parts of New England including, but certainly not limited to, the 19 Mile Brook Trail. We noticed many re-routes and improvements, including a new bridge to repair and replace sections of the trail washed away in the deluge of Irene.

It seemed a quick jaunt the two miles to the trail junction where we would turn east and begin the ascent along many switchbacks of the Carter Dome Trail that would lead us up to Zeta Pass where we would head south along the Carter-Moriah Trail to Carter Dome. Wicket continued to trot along just ahead, checking every stream for taste and water quality, and hopping off trail after evil Chipmunks and Red Squirrels thereby clearing the trail for our safe passage.

In this manner we soon found ourselves at Zeta Pass where we took a breather while I studied the trail signs and pretty much decidied I did not have enough in me today to go beyond Carter Dome and Mount Hight. South and Middle Carters would have to wait for another day. On the high ridge where sits Zeta Pass the forest has turned over to an ancient boreal spruce forest thick with hanging beard-lichen which has a completely different feel about it than the hardwood deciduous forest we rose through to get here.

As we turned south to make the sloping ascent to Carter Dome the brilliant sun was near directly in our eyes. Fog lifted, swirled and danced in the sunlight as it warmed the damp Boreal forest. Something primordial stirs ancient memories as we rise through the spruce and mist. Just before we reach the summit there is a spot to sneak through the thick spruce that lines the trail. As we step out the vast Northern Presidential Range is laid before us in its Autumn splendor.

We stepped back onto the trail and finished the last few hundred feet to the summit, a small cairn amidst the remains of a former fire-tower. I had a much needed change to a dry shirt and a much needed sandwich, drink and snack while Jude and Wicket enjoyed much the same. I stood mouth agog at the viewpoint gazing from one Presidential summit to the next as they played Hide & Seek in the bank of clouds that rolled right up to the western side of the range, but seemed reluctant to spill over into the eastern cirques and ravines.

After many vain attempts by me to capture on camera the astounding scene before us we slung the packs back on and headed towards our next goal, Mount Hight, proclaimed to be one of the best 360* views in the White Mountains, and I couldn’t agree more. Views of the Presidential Range to the west, and the Wild River Valley/ Evans Notch area along New Hampshire’s border with Maine are simply outstanding.

We stayed on Mount Hight as long or longer than we had on Carter Dome, the day was beautiful, the sun was warm, and the steady breeze required no more than a light jacket to be comfortable, couldn’t have asked for better. After many more attempts in vain to record the beauty for posterity we dragged ourselves away to make the steep but short descent back to Zeta Pass.

Well, there we were back at Zeta Pass. I think I have told already how earlier in the day I had said I didn’t think I was up for South & Middle Carters. We stood there and I felt better having rested and eaten, and thinking “There’s no time like the present, and even if I don’t feel like doing it now, I don’t like the idea of coming back for these other two Carters.” I looked at Jude, she agreed to go and off we went.

Once a made up my mind to go I had no problem pushing myself up the next two bumps. We had decided we would descend by the North Carter and Imp Trails rather than making an out back return trip to Zeta Pass and out the way w had come. Also, I thought I could find the Camp Dodge trail that would cut a couple of miles off the distance, and this proved much easier than expected, as it is very obvious.

I will say this though, descending the Imp Trail in wet leaves and rocks in this direction sucked, but we were pleased we were able to take this alternate route and cut off some mileage. There is about a 3-4/10ths mile walk along Rte.16 back to the 19 Mile Brook Trailhead.

So, Ms. Wicket wound up with numbers 5, 6 & 7 getting three instead of the one we set out for. It was a long day for young dogs and old folks, but we all survived the test and were looking forward to a hot shower, some supper and a warm bed. After her supper Wicket picked up her ball and demanded to play. I guess we’ll have to try a little harder to wear her out.